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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365590">In Quarantine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_stanning/pseuds/r_stanning'>r_stanning</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La Casa de las Flores | The House of Flowers (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Prompts Welcome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:41:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_stanning/pseuds/r_stanning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>María José and Paulina are happily re-married — taxidermy decor and all — and settling into their new life. But the world had yet another surprise for them in 2020: quarantine.</p><p>This fic will be composed of short snippets from their lives after season 3, and how they’re dealing with the global pandemic at home with Bruno. Mostly light-hearted snapshots to get me through quarantine, but rating is for later chapters that are still sorting themselves out in my head. Will be updating every now and then! Prompts welcome.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paulina de la Mora/María José Riquelme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bailando!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The first time it happened, Paulina wasn't sure she even heard it. </p><p> </p><p>María José was in the shower one hot afternoon when Paulina popped inside their shared bathroom to grab a tissue. She had been in such a rush to clean up a spill and neglected to knock before coming in, but for a moment she thought she might have heard María José softly singing the unmistakably catchy chorus of <em> El Silencio Loco </em> over the sound of the water running… but she can't be sure, and the sound of her wife’s voice was gone almost as soon as she heard it. </p><p> </p><p>The blonde had cried in the car the first time Paulina heard Bruno's single, not because she was particularly proud of their son's achievement — though they are proud parents of a wonderful child, overall! <em> She cried because she hated the song</em>, Paulina reminded herself, <em> so there was no way she would be singing their son's debut single without a gun to her head</em>. </p><p> </p><p>"Just grabbing some tissue!" she explained quickly, before heading back out with a quick "love you!" María José had shouted an “I love you!” back, and the spilt coffee Paulina was attending to pushed the sound of her wife's singing out of her mind. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The next time it happened, Paulina had woken up to the smell of eggs and chilaquiles wafting through the slightly open door. María José was no longer in bed, so Paulina padded quietly out of their bedroom and into the hallway, hoping to surprise the blonde with a kiss. Paulina heard her before she saw her, though, and this time she was absolutely sure of what she was hearing.</p><p> </p><p>“—<em> amigos adiós, adiós el silencio loco</em>,” María José sang, completely absorbed in the song and her cooking. “<em>Sí señor</em>,” she crooned, hips swaying to the imaginary beat. “<em>Corona de cristales, </em> <em> ¡</em><em>yea, yea, yea!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Foregoing her initial plan, Paulina chose instead to lean against the wall behind the oblivious blonde, stifling a giggle and committing the image of her wife in concert while cooking breakfast — bed hair, satin robe, fuzzy slippers, and all — to memory. <em> A work of art</em>, Paulina thought, just as the singer in question turned around, pan in hand, to see her audience. </p><p> </p><p>María José froze, her mouth forming an adorable O. She had been mid-refrain (“<em>tu y yo! </em>”), eyes wide and chilaquiles temporarily forgotten. "Pau, I can explain." </p><p> </p><p>"Explain what? That you have great taste in music?" Paulina asked with a chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>There was a pause, as Paulina savored the adorable look of shock on her wife's face before it turned into one of embarrassment, and finally, of mirth, her eyes crinkling in a way that the brunette adored. María José set the pan down on a wooden coaster on the kitchen island between them and raised her hands in defeat.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine. You caught me, woman.”</p><p> </p><p>"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Paulina asked, crossing her arms and struggling to keep a straight face. She walked closer until it was only the kitchen island in between them, and placed her hands down on the counter top before leaning forward as if in an interrogation. </p><p> </p><p>"Just the one thing, officer," María José replied, hands still in the air, but with an unmistakable glint in her gorgeous eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"And what's that, my wife?" It's been a few weeks since their marriage, but something about calling the blonde <em>her wife</em> still sent a thrill down her spine. </p><p> </p><p>"I have great taste in everything," she declared, quickly leaning forward to close the distance and give Paulina a kiss on the cheek. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>That night, as they wound down from another day of staying indoors with a bottle of beer each, Paulina and María José spend two hours trying to learn the dance that came along with the song's music video. That is until, ears red and jaw tired from laughing, Paulina calls over their son from his room so they can finally learn from a professional. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was in the middle of writing something else entirely for these two babies when this idea took root and did not stop bugging me until I wrote it down! How do you think Majolina is dealing with the pandemic? Prompts welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Logic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>María José Riquelme had always prided herself in her logic.</p><p> </p><p>She is a lawyer, after all, and had been at the top of her class. Over the years, she had built herself a track record for winning especially difficult cases for her clients, enjoying the challenge of constructing compelling arguments and artfully dismantling her opponents’ with a flip of her blonde hair. She thrived in the structure of the legal world, though she may not always agree with it, and took comfort in the fact that she is able to navigate the complicated domain of law with a clear mind and steady voice. Her boss in Madrid had been reluctant to see her go because of it, but she had been excited to restart her practice in Mexico to use that logic for women like herself.</p><p> </p><p>The problem is, being on her knees, face down, and ass up outside on their veranda at 9:30 in the morning, attempting what is supposed to be a thread the needle pose, doesn’t feel the slightest bit logical. </p><p> </p><p>She steals a glance at the woman next to her. María José likes to think of her as the love of her life, which is true, but the term also has the added benefit of summarizing everything Paulina de la Mora has been to her over the years — her wife for whom she had moved to Mexico to start a family with, then her ex whom she missed terribly but had made peace letting go of, then her girlfriend who moved to Madrid to be with her, then her ex again, then her lover, and then finally, her wife once more. She doesn’t like to think about it too much, because the paths that led them to, from, and back to each other were not at all logical, and if she is being honest, she knows that she had thrown logic out the window the moment she had answered that call and crossed the ocean for her two years ago. This is the one thing in her life that she thinks will probably never make sense to anybody else. And though she knows they are no longer so young as to believe in absolute happiness, something about being together just feels logical and <em> right</em>, no matter the twists and turns they took along the way.</p><p> </p><p>But still, surely there is no way she can twist herself the way the on-screen instructor was contorting her body. Her wife is deep in concentration next to her doing her best, and though Paulina had always been the more flexible one (<em>at least physically</em>, she thinks wryly), the shape she was making with her body doesn’t look quite the same as the one on screen. Her back is to María José this way, though, and the blonde thinks that if anything, at least their morning activity is treating her to a nice view of her wife’s ass. Her tank had ridden up her torso just a little, giving her a peek at the glistening skin on Paulina’s back.</p><p> </p><p>“Feels good doesn’t it, María José?” Paulina asks, the strain in her voice betraying her decidedly cheerful tone. This was, after all, her idea. “It’s supposed to help boost immunity, too.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” She is right, of course, but María José can’t help but say flatly, “I’m feeling very immune.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me, too,” comes her tart reply. She can’t see her wife’s face at the moment, but she can’t help chuckling at the thought of it.</p><p> </p><p>To her relief, the voice coming out of her iPad instructs them to release the pose and come back to all fours before slowly going down to child’s pose. This, María José can do, and she welcomes the feeling it brings to her hips and lower back as she moves to separate her knees, sit on her heels, and lay her torso down between her thighs. The instructor tells them to hold this for several breaths to end their session, and despite her qualms with yoga overall, María José closes her eyes and inhales deeply before letting the air out through her mouth. It feels good, she has to admit, and there are worse things Paulina could’ve pulled her into doing for immunity-boosting exercise. <em> Like Zumba, </em>she thinks.</p><p> </p><p>María José lets a wave of calm wash over her, letting her forehead rest on the mat. But the peace is quickly broken with the sound of a low groan coming from the woman next to her. </p><p> </p><p>She turns her head to look at her wife. “Are you alright there, Pau?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she replies, face still down on her yoga mat. “Just dealing with the fact that I am no longer 20.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not?” María José teases in mock horror, and Paulina throws her face towel at her in response. It hits her head as intended, and so the blonde sits up and uses it to wipe the sweat off her chest and shoulders. “Your aim is still perfect, I see.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, though ashtrays are still my specialty.” Paulina sits up at this, too, and despite the threat, María José lets herself absorb the sight of her flushed cheeks, damp skin, and slightly messed up bun. Something about the way her lashes framed her eyes, glinting under the morning sun, took her breath away in a way that yoga didn’t. “There is something else I want us to do, though.”</p><p> </p><p>It is María José’s turn to groan, worried that she might actually make her do Zumba and knowing full well she can’t say no to her wife. But she notes the mischievous look on the said woman’s face, and so she asks, “What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Paulina stands with surprising swiftness and reaches out a hand to help the blonde up. She takes it, and the brunette wordlessly pulls her back inside the house, through the living room, and into their bedroom. Before María José can ask what is going on, Paulina closes the door behind them and, her expression inscrutable, reaches out for her face and plants her salty lips on hers. It’s not exactly what María José was expecting, but she lets the smaller woman bite her lip just the same, as Paulina pushes her not so gently against the door. </p><p> </p><p>María José opens her mouth to her wife, and her hand finds its way underneath Paulina’s flimsy tank top, enjoying the heat underneath her fingers. The brunette rises on her tiptoes to kiss her more intently and press her body even closer, a hand entwined in María José’s hair and another planted firmly on top of her sports bra.</p><p> </p><p>Several heartbeats pass, and Paulina tilts her head to pepper kisses down María José’s neck and chest. “I’ve been meaning to do that since the first downward dog,” Paulina mutters, and the blonde can almost hear the smile in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Pau —” she whispers, meaning to tell her how much she loves her. They are no longer 20, she thinks, but there are times when she could swear her heart races like it did then.</p><p> </p><p>But the brunette interrupts her by asking, “Did you know that sex also boosts your immunity?” She lifts her arms to let María José lift her tank up and over her head. “I found that out while looking for yoga videos.” María José’s fingers make quick work of her bra, and her wife moans as she begins massaging her breasts.</p><p> </p><p>“I heard it lowers blood pressure, too,” María José replies, relishing the smile it causes on her wife’s face. She wasn’t the only one who got curious on Google, then. “And it burns around five calories per minute.”</p><p> </p><p>Paulina nods in solemn agreement as she moves to get the blonde out of her own bra, pausing to give her a quick kiss before the offending fabric is finally off. “Oh, then we should probably spend more time doing it, no?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the only logical thing to do,” María José says, laughing as she leads her wife to their bed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can't believe it's only been a month since these two got married and I miss them so much :'(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Under the Covers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time has been such a weird concept in quarantine, and so much has happened that I neglected to update this fic as often as I had planned, because my heart was just not in it. I do miss my moms though, and this draft has been in the works for weeks. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Being home day in and out has brought a steady rhythm to Paulina’s life that she isn’t entirely used to, especially after the chaos of the past two years. But with Bruno and María José both healthy and in her life, she thinks that it’s definitely not an unwelcome change — minus the actual pandemic, of course.</p><p> </p><p>Mornings begin with coffee and a light breakfast. Often, she wakes up before María José does, and so Paulina likes to count her eyelashes before pressing a kiss on her forehead (or, when she feels like it, small kisses all over her face) and getting up to prepare their food. </p><p> </p><p>Their son is an early riser, too, and is usually up around the same time to make coffee. He had taken to experimenting with different beans and brews, which Paulina supposes is not a bad hobby compared to, say, drinking his way through their household stock of wine. His current obsession is cold brew, and so as Paulina whips something up for breakfast, he need only take out the batch he steeped overnight and strain out the concentrate to make a cup for each member of the family. María José usually gets up by the time breakfast is ready, and the three of them eat together. </p><p> </p><p>Mid-mornings are dedicated to yoga and then a shower, which Paulina enjoys sharing with her wife. She rests as the blonde gets to work in her little corner office, and before long it is time to prepare lunch. Paulina isn’t the best cook, but she enjoys the motions of it, relishes the step-by-step activities of measuring and chopping and mixing and stewing and boiling, how one leads to the other, and things make sense… at least most of the time. Sometimes lunch is a success, and sometimes not, in which case Bruno picks out the cuisine of choice to be delivered.</p><p> </p><p>The afternoons are for checking on baby Pato or catching up with Ernesto and Micaela, as well as doing various chores around the house. Though those are far from glamorous, Paulina enjoys the domesticity of it all with María José. And on her rest days, Paulina had also recently taken up embroidery, a fact that had amused her wife endlessly. She used to think it was an old woman’s hobby — and maybe she <em> was </em>getting older, but there was something special in making something with her hands, even if the result was not always perfect. Sometimes she would also check on Amanda, Yuri, and the other Paulina to make sure they were all doing okay. </p><p> </p><p>Before long, it is time for dinner, and for Paulina, the evenings are the best. They share a bottle of wine over a meal that María José prepares, before doing something fun like a board game or movie as a family.</p><p> </p><p>And afterwards, it is time for Paulina’s favorite ceremony of the day — getting ready for bed. María José had declared their bedroom a no-phone zone, as she had read somewhere that it’s important not to use gadgets at least 30 minutes before bed for better sleep and immunity. And so it was that on this particular night, after washing up and changing into her pajamas, Paulina gets under the covers to be treated to the sight of her wife getting ready, too.  </p><p> </p><p>She smiles as María José emerges from their bathroom and puts on a pair of thick, bright cotton socks. It’s a silly thing, since she had chosen one of her lace nighties to wear to bed tonight, but Paulina knows it’s because the blonde gets cold easily. <em> I can certainly help warm her up</em>, she thinks, as her love moves to get on the bed and into her waiting arms.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my turn to ask a question, yes?” María José says, by way of greeting, as Paulina moves a strand of blonde hair away from her beautiful face and nods in agreement. </p><p> </p><p>This was another thing María José had picked up on the internet: In order to wind down from their day, they can ask each other a question before sleeping, taking turns every night. María José says that Google had said that it's a good, no-phone way to bond and relax with your partner, and that studies have repeatedly demonstrated how communication is key to a long and satisfying union. Paulina just likes it when María José talks. She enjoys the crinkles on the sides of her eyes and the way her lips jut out as she thinks, and so she goes along with it. </p><p> </p><p>It took them just a few days to start getting into creative questions once they ran out of the more obvious ones. It was still, technically, their honeymoon period as newly-weds. But it was also not their first honeymoon period, so at first Paulina had some trouble thinking of things she didn't already know. But María José persisted, leading them towards newer and newer questions, and over the course of a few weeks, this nightly routine became something the brunette looked forward to enjoying every night. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, the questions are silly ("If you had to get married to a Teletubby, which one would it be and why?"), while others were more somber ("In our absence, who do you think would be the best legal guardian for Bruno?"). Some are quite practical, if a little mundane ("Which speed setting on the electric fan do you most prefer?"), while others would keep them giggling for hours ("What is your most embarrassing childhood memory?"). </p><p> </p><p>On some evenings, however, the questions seem simple at first, but turn out to be much more, and Paulina thinks this might just be one of those nights as María José starts, "I've been thinking about how much we've changed over the years."</p><p> </p><p>"We have?” Paulina interjects in mock horror, which earns her a chuckle from the blonde in her arms. </p><p> </p><p>"So, my question is: What is one thing that has changed about me that you like the most?" </p><p> </p><p>The question makes Paulina pause and look up at the ceiling in thought, a hand toying with a strand of her wife's hair. Her wife is right, of course — if she had met the version of her from a year or two years ago she may not even recognize herself, much less the younger versions of Paulina de la Mora, and the same can certainly be said for María José.</p><p> </p><p>Paulina supposes she may have been quiet for a bit too long as the blonde offers, “Well obviously, I became a woman, but —”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Paulina says. </p><p> </p><p>“No?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I mean… Obviously, you are a woman,” Paulina echoes, as her wife readjusts to rest her head on her hand and look at her much more easily. “I had a lot of time to think about it in the past couple of years. I didn’t realize it before, but you were already a woman all those years I was with José María, weren’t you? I just didn’t see it, and when you finally told me, I refused to see it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well yes,” María José replies softly, her expression unreadable, and so Paulina gathers the courage to continue.</p><p> </p><p>“In the years between the divorce and seeing you again,” she says, “You didn’t transition to become a woman, you transitioned to become more yourself, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” María José says again, her lips slightly parted. There is a pause, as Paulina continues to think, before her wife chuckles and mutters, “And here I thought you were just going to answer ‘Your tits!’ and we’d be kissing already, Pau.”</p><p> </p><p>Paulina laughs, and places a hand on her wife’s lovely cheek. “We’ll get to the kissing in a bit, I promise… unless you don’t want my answer?” The blonde pouts adorably, but motions for Paulina to continue, and so she does.</p><p> </p><p>“In truth, it never felt right to compare you then and now, and obviously there are noticeable changes,” — Paulina looks pointedly at her wife’s breasts, tempting her underneath the thin lace, and this earns her another melodic laugh — “and there are many smaller ones, too. Your skin is softer, you have less body hair. And once you get out of your heels, I could’ve sworn José María was at least a couple of inches taller.”</p><p> </p><p>Paulina moves her hand from her wife’s cheek to the side of her head, threading her fingers through the soft blonde hair. “Your HRT reversed some of the balding you had going on, too,” she teases. “You even smell different.” She takes a deep breath in, just to emphasize the point, and turns her gaze to meet her wife’s once more. “Still really, really good, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never told you,” María José whispers. “But I remember how my body really welcomed estrogen like it was always meant to be there… I felt — I feel — so alive, and I think that’s what really saved me, after being away from you.”</p><p> </p><p>Paulina smiles at this, and closes the distance between them to press a kiss on her wife’s forehead. So much really has changed, and her heart feels so full. She mirrors her wife’s position, lying down on her side and resting her head on her hand, before saying, “I’m so proud of you, you know that?” The blonde nods, and so she continues, “I know I’ll never fully understand how you felt, but I think that my favorite thing that has changed about you is that you are happy, and that you are you.” </p><p> </p><p>In the low light, Paulina registers her lover’s grey-green eyes glistening before her lips find her own, and María José pushes her gently back down on to the bed. Her body feels instantly warm, and every small errand and task for tomorrow gets pushed to the back of her mind as a hand finds its way underneath her pajama top and grasps at her waist.</p><p> </p><p>Her wife’s kisses are as fantastic as ever and, Paulina supposes, María José was right — this nightly question thing is a great way to wind down and bond in the evening, especially if she gets treated to her wife in between her legs like this. She moves one hand to cup her wife’s breast as the other pulls lightly on her hair, earning her a moan that feels like a jolt of electricity. Every nerve in her body is on end in response, and she knows she’ll do anything to draw out as many of those moans as she can tonight and every night.</p><p> </p><p>María José presses her hips down on to hers, and Paulina responds with a moan of her own. She catches her breath as her wife moves to pepper her face with kisses, punctuating each one with quick <em> I love yous </em>that make her mouth form a wide grin and her heart soar.</p><p> </p><p>As the blonde impatiently tugs at her shirt and swiftly removes her nightgown to press their bodies together, smooth breasts making a delicious imprint on her own, Paulina thinks that though she’ll never completely understand the changes her wife had had to go through, she supposes it must be related to this feeling, like coming home. She wraps her limbs around María José, as the latter moves to trace a line down her neck with her tongue before biting lightly. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>In the morning, after she dabs a little concealer on her neck and watches her wife expertly administer her HRT shot, Paulina gives María José a quick kiss on the cheek to start her daily routine all over again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I did a lot of research on transitioning and HRT for their conversation here and though I did my best, please do let me know if you think I may have misunderstood or misrepresented the process in any way, so I will respectfully adjust. Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Surprises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Bruno is getting a little bit tired, which is kind of funny, because this has been the most sedentary time of his life.</p><p> </p><p>The most exercise he got these days was playing solo tennis against the garden wall, except he had mishit and accidentally lost his last ball the other day. <em> So much for training, coach</em>. The next best thing is helping his mom hang up the laundry, but for a family of three, there aren't enough clothes or linens to keep him busy on most days. Sometimes he joins in on his mothers’ morning yoga sessions, but he gets easily bored halfway, and the low grunts and other sounds coming out of his mothers’ mouths weirded him out too much.</p><p> </p><p>No, it was not physical activity that’s exhausted the poor teenager. It’s being around his parents.</p><p> </p><p>Don’t get him wrong: He loves his two mothers, appreciates how they provide for him, and loves how much they adore each other and seem more in love than ever... though that is, he supposes, related to the problem. In truth, Bruno thinks it’s great that his parents are back together, as they certainly deserve all the happiness in the world — he just wishes he doesn’t have to worry about walking in on them so often.</p><p> </p><p>When he was little, he remembers that his parents used to go on dates often. They took him out to the park for afternoon picnics, and would leave him with his abuelo and abuela for hours to go to the movies, or for entire weekends to go on trips to Guanajuato, Cancún, and once, even Tamasopo. He didn’t mind being dropped off at his grandparents’, because he enjoyed talking with his tío and stargazing with his abuelo. He also didn’t really mind third-wheeling back then, too, because the most he’d see was them holding hands and kissing with those small, proper pecks that children think all kissing is. </p><p> </p><p>And when his parents separated, his mamá was always very busy, and that meant being left to his own devices on most days. This, he’d learned to be okay with, and minus the occasional fights and him acting out, it was more or less a peaceful time — if a little cold.</p><p> </p><p>After his other mamá came back into their lives, things were different. It was chaotic for a bit, with them crossing oceans — not to mention his mamá’s trip to “Finland” —  and he wasn’t always sure where his parents stood in each other’s lives. But both of them doted on him and shouted at him in equal measure (which he’d come to understand is a normal way to parent), and for the most part, they seemed affectionate with each other… at least when they weren’t fighting. </p><p> </p><p>Their second engagement and marriage ushered in a marked change, though, and this time around Bruno is old enough to know what happens behind closed doors. The problem is, he quickly found out that his parents seemed no longer content to <em> stay </em> behind closed doors, and he’s lost count of the times he was sure he had heard some questionable things before turning a corner and finding the two of them with their faces red and in awkward poses, as if they had just jumped apart a split-second ago. <em> And here I thought I was the teenager in this house, </em>he thinks.</p><p> </p><p>It was fine before the pandemic struck, because he was almost always out of the house anyway, but now… Well, let’s just say he’s developed the habit of stomping his feet everywhere he goes so that his mothers have a few more seconds’ worth of warning before he walks into any room. He’s also taken to playing loud music through the night, just in case.</p><p> </p><p>So yes, Bruno Riquelme de la Mora is a little tired. </p><p> </p><p>To wit, he can only count two times he did actually catch them in less-than-dignified situations.</p><p> </p><p>The first instance happened before quarantine. He had left the house to go hang out with Rosita and Micaela, only to turn back halfway because he forgot his phone. The sight that greeted him upon opening the front door — his mother atop the kitchen island, her head thrown back, eyes closed, and her back to him, with a blonde head just visible over her shoulder — made him quickly regret the decision. He closed the door, phone all but forgotten, and marched straight back where he’d come. Breakfast the next day was an awkward affair, and Bruno knows it would’ve been funny if only it wasn’t happening to <em> him</em>. His mothers carefully avoided his eyes, even as he handed them their morning coffee. And afterwards, his mother sat him down to stutter an apology, her usual lawyerly composure nowhere in sight. He had said, at the time, that it was fine, as long as they promised to be more careful, to which the blonde had nodded her head solemnly. And so, Bruno had thought that that would be it. </p><p> </p><p>His peace lasted for about two weeks.</p><p> </p><p>The second time it happened was in the middle of the damn day. Bruno had gone looking for his mamá to ask where she had stored his extra tennis balls (he had lost the two he had in his bag already), when he remembered that she said she was going to do some laundry. And so he made his way to the laundry room out by the garden. He distinctly remembers that his mothers had an argument that morning, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was… something about his mamá not storing the groceries the way his other mamá preferred. And so, one would understand why the sight of his parents wrapped thoroughly around each other in the laundry room — their argument apparently as forgotten as the dirty clothes on the floor — wasn’t exactly something Bruno expected to see. He had quickly backed away, wishing he could burn his eyes, and wondering why he seemed to be living with two hormonal teenagers.</p><p> </p><p>Today, however, his mamá had sat him down to ask him if they could surprise his other mamá for Mother’s Day, which is tomorrow. It would be the first time they’d get to do that as a married couple, she had said, and Bruno agreed to sign the card his mother prepared. He also told her that he already had something in mind that he wanted to do for them both. At this, his mother had smiled, tears in her eyes, and kissed him on the forehead. He shushed the part of his brain that thought about just where her lips had been recently, before promptly shooing her away from his room with a laugh. He had, after all, a surprise to prepare.</p><p> </p><p>The surprise in question is an old drawing of his he had found in a box of old things a few days ago. They had been in such a rush to move — from Mexico, to Madrid, back to abuela’s house, and finally to their new home — that their old things were in such a disarray. They had never gotten around to fully unpacking, partly because of all the wedding-related activities, but also partly, Bruno suspects, because it was <em> a lot </em> of work. Being quarantined meant they had a lot of time to get it done though, and his mother had declared it to be their task of the week.</p><p> </p><p>Every box he and his mamá had opened held its own surprise: a framed portrait of Virginia that caused a small sniffle from his mother; dusty books Paulina had devoured in quieter times; even an old harmonica he used to play all day as a kid that drove both his parents crazy (his musical roots, apparently, run deep). He had also found his old schoolbooks, as well as an envelope of his assignments from preschool that his mamá had apparently saved over the years. There was a certificate declaring him as his class’ “Most Inquisitive” (whatever that meant), as well as some early assessments from his very first school counselor. Tucked along with all this was a sheet of paper with a drawing his younger self had made in bright, bold colors — three figures labeled in ghastly green: <em>Bruno, Papá, and Mamá</em>. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Late that evening, Bruno tiptoes down to the kitchen and places his revised family portrait carefully on the refrigerator door. This way, he knows, it would be the first thing his mothers will see upon waking up. It’s a simple surprise, but he feels quite proud of himself for pulling off the entire thing, and so he takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of his latest masterpiece.</p><p> </p><p><em> A little wine is in order, </em> Bruno decides, <em> to celebrate</em>, and so he gets himself a glass and makes his way to the adjoining living room, where he had placed their leftover wine from dinner. In the dim light, he gets comfortable on the couch, and sends the photo plus a selfie over to Rosita, whom his app says was online 2 minutes ago. Sure enough, her status immediately turns to active, and she sends over some heart emojis.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, you," comes her greeting. "Nice art!"</p><p> </p><p>But before he can think of a reply that strikes a good balance between excited and coolly aloof, Bruno hears the door to his parents' room open, and a pair of feet step out. </p><p> </p><p>Panicking, he kills his phone to shut off its light and sinks further into the couch. As long as the lights stay off and he doesn't make a sound, he knows he won't be seen from the hallway and kitchen, and so he says a quick prayer that whichever mamá has decided to venture out of their bedroom this late has no plans of going to the living room area. </p><p> </p><p>The footsteps make their way down the hall and towards the open floor plan of the kitchen, dining, and living rooms, and Bruno can hardly breathe. Eventually, he hears the woman walk towards the general direction of the kitchen, followed by the clinking of some glassware and the sound of the refrigerator door being opened. There is a brief light, as one of his mothers looks at the contents of the fridge, before he hears the sound of water being poured into a glass. The room dims once more as the fridge door closes, and Bruno is barely able to exhale a silent sigh of relief in the renewed darkness when he hears a loud crash. The silence in the seconds that follow is deafening.</p><p> </p><p>"María José?" comes a voice from his mothers' bedroom, as another pair of feet make their way much more quickly down the hallway and into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p><em> Great</em>, Bruno thinks. <em> Now they're both up</em>. </p><p> </p><p>When his mother doesn't reply, Bruno hears Paulina ask, "Princess, what happened?" </p><p> </p><p>He scrunches his nose at the pet name, but otherwise holds deathly still. His mamá must have seen his surprise gift, as she finally replies, "Look at what Bruno made." </p><p> </p><p>"What?" His other mamá asks, and there is a pause as she switches the kitchen light on. If Bruno couldn't bear to breathe before, he certainly wishes his heart would stop beating so loudly now too, as the added light makes him feel more vulnerable in his hiding place. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh my…" came his mamá's reaction, and Bruno hears a sniffle and some shuffling.  "Oh, I can't believe he made that," his mamá says, her diction even slower than usual.</p><p> </p><p><em> I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not, Mamá, </em>he silently retorts. </p><p> </p><p>"That's so sweet," she continues, and Bruno hears her start picking up some of the broken shards of glass from the ground. "Watch your step, honey, you might hurt yourself." There is another sniffle, before his other mamá makes a sound that feels like an affirmation and there is more shuffling as they clean up the mess. </p><p> </p><p>It must've taken them just a couple of minutes to clean up, but Bruno feels the seconds stretch as he holds his breath and fights to keep as still as possible. He can't move now; it would be way too awkward to explain what he was doing and why he had been hiding. Eventually, the sounds of mopping and moving glass stop, and Bruno hears his mamá sigh heavily.</p><p> </p><p>"Can you believe you made the boy that made that?" </p><p> </p><p>He hears the unmistakable sound of a kiss, and then another, before his other mamá replies, "No, <em> we </em> made the boy that did that." </p><p> </p><p>There is more smooching, and a soft sigh, and Bruno truly cannot believe his misfortune.<em> Of all the times to have to be stuck in the living room… </em></p><p> </p><p>One of his mamás lets out a low moan, and he thinks that he would very much like to disappear at this very moment. He doesn't really believe in a god, but if he exists, Bruno thinks he shouldn’t be so mean as to torture him in this way. "Do you remember when we made him?" his mamá asks in a low voice, and there is a chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jesucristo. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm, maybe."</p><p> </p><p>Bruno hates that he can almost see his mother's smirk in his mind's eye, hates that he had done his mothers this <em> one nice thing </em> and the universe pays him back in this way. </p><p> </p><p>There is a light slap, and soft laughter. "You barbarian." Bruno screws his eyes shut and presses his hands to his ears, but this doesn't stop him from hearing more of this cursed conversation. "I’m sure we can refresh your memory somehow, if you like." </p><p> </p><p>"How, Pau? We can't go out camping, and besides, there are no waterfalls anywhere near here!" </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, so you <em> do </em> remember!" </p><p> </p><p>"I did say <em> maybe."  </em></p><p> </p><p>His mother giggles, a sound so foreign to Bruno’s ears, before saying, "Well, we do have a <em> shower</em>." </p><p> </p><p>There is laughter once again, as he hears footsteps quickly make their way back through the hallway and into his mothers' bedroom. </p><p> </p><p>As the door shuts behind them, Bruno finally lets out the breath he had been holding, and sits up. That's certainly much more than he cared to know about his own conception. He quietly gets up, grabs his untouched glass of wine, and pads carefully back upstairs and into the safety of his room.</p><p> </p><p>Once there, he drops himself onto his bed, whips out his phone, and begins typing. </p><p> </p><p>"u won't BELIEVE what i just had to sit thru..."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The following morning, Bruno gets up a little bit later than usual, his late-night misadventure taking a toll on his sleep. He almost forgets that today is <em> the </em> holiday, and when his mother welcomes him to the dining table with a quick kiss on the forehead and a plate of his favorite molletes, it takes him a second to register the sight before him. </p><p> </p><p>His mother is sitting across from him, fiddling with a picture frame. "Good morning, sleepyhead," she says, smiling. "Thank you for the gift." </p><p> </p><p>Just as she says so, she finishes what she was doing, and holds up the picture frame for him to see. In it is his drawing of his family, recently updated to reflect the times. It now reads: <em> Bruno, Mamá, and Mamá</em>, and he is pleased that his craft paper and highlighter additions look good in the morning light. It looks so much better this way, he thinks, and he smiles back at his mother. "You're welcome, mamá." </p><p> </p><p>Okay, his life isn't so bad, Bruno supposes, as he bites into his mollete and looks pointedly away as his mamá presses a kiss on his other mamá's cheek.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The alternative title to this one is: "Two times Bruno caught his parents being disgusting, and the one time he was (kind of) okay with it."</p><p>Thank you for reading! :)</p><p> </p><p>PS - The other alternative title is "Why Bruno's mamás love Tamasopo."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Movie night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>She knows Paulina like the back of her hand.</p><p> </p><p>She knows that when she ghosts her fingers slowly up her wife’s thigh, her mind completely disregarding the movie playing on the screen in front of them, that Paulina knows exactly what’s going on when she asks, “What are you doing, <em> princesa</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>The blonde casts a quick glance around their living room for effect, and can’t help the small smile that breaks out on her face as she does so. Her wife follows her gaze, and María José knows she understands exactly what this gesture says: Bruno has gone upstairs to his room for the evening, the dishes are done, and María José can’t bring herself to care about the movie she picked out 20 minutes ago. And so when she finally replies, “Hopefully you,” in a low voice she knows Paulina loves, she hears her wife’s laughter in her mind before she even says it.</p><p> </p><p>Paulina’s laugh is all it takes to get María José kneeling between her wife’s legs, a hand on her wife’s hip and another drawing her face down for a kiss. She tastes like the red wine they had been sharing, sweet and crisp on her tongue, and hungry hands make their way underneath her shirt to feel the warm skin on her waist.</p><p> </p><p>Her fingers move upwards towards her wife’s breasts, enjoying the way Paulina’s deft fingers unbutton her shirt with ease. It’s not long before both their shirts and María José’s bra come off, and she’s not cold at all. Instead, she feels warm all over, and her wife’s fingers trace a trail of heat up and down her sides before coming to rest on her breasts and pinching her stiff nipples. The smile on Paulina’s face is cocky, and the blonde curses her ridiculously sensitive breasts for distracting her from what <em> she </em>initiated. She can’t be too mad, though, and in truth she loves how every time they come together, it’s a game that’s both exciting and familiar, a game where both of them win. But still, she wills her mind to focus on sending Paulina’s bra into the pile of clothes next to her and bringing one of her wife’s nipples into her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>She sucks on it, looking up at her wife’s face and enjoying the sensations of it all: the sight of Paulina’s face contorting in pleasure, the texture of her on her tongue, and the sound of her low moan filling the room — the sounds of the movie well and truly drowned out. Her hands are back on her wife’s thighs, kneading the strong muscles there as the fingers on her own breasts falter and squeeze some more. She moves her hands up and onto the waistband of her wife’s lounge pants, and Paulina takes the hint, raising her hips to let María José pull both it and her underwear down. Those quickly join the rest of their clothes, and she moves her mouth to shower affection on Paulina’s other breast as her hands retrace their path on her wife’s thighs and hips, this time without fabric separating her from her wife’s deliciously warm skin. </p><p> </p><p>Paulina’s hands move from her breasts to her blonde hair, pulling in a way María José knows that her wife knows she loves. She moans in appreciation, and then drags her lips down to her wife’s side, onto the expanse of skin she had long discovered to be extremely sensitive. Sure enough, she hears her wife’s breath hitch as she teases her waist and then her hips with just a hint of teeth, then moves from her wife’s side and down to her center.</p><p> </p><p>Gently, she uses her palms to push Paulina’s thighs slightly farther apart and takes a deep breath in. <em> I can never get enough of this, </em>María José thinks to herself, and the chuckle above her head tells her she might have just said it out loud. Her wife is so, so wet, and she knows that underneath her own lounge pants, she probably is, too. </p><p> </p><p>She looks up at the woman looking down at her, and even though she is the one on her knees, María José feels an intoxicating sense of power rush through her as she uses two fingers to separate her wife’s labia and darts out her tongue to begin working. </p><p> </p><p>The effect is immediate, and the brunette breaks eye contact, throwing her head back to rest against the back of the couch. María José closes her eyes and takes her time, relishing each sigh and shiver and moan she is able to draw out with every movement of her tongue. She knows how Paulina likes it, of course — deep and fast and relentless — but <em> there is time enough for that later,</em> she decides. For now, she draws light but purposeful lines up and down her wife's center, pausing now and then to shower affection at the little nub of nerves on her clit. </p><p> </p><p>Her wife moans above her, back arching and hips lifting off the couch ever so slightly in search of even more friction. María José uses her free hand to hold her steady, looping an arm around her wife's thigh and enjoying the expanse of skin underneath her fingers spread across her hip. It surprises her, sometimes, to realize how tiny Paulina really is in her hands, given how tall and proud and fierce she can be, and how big a part this woman plays in her life. </p><p> </p><p>Right now though, María José delights in the wet, increasingly incoherent mess her wife has become — <em> because of me</em>, she thinks, with some pride — right in the middle of their living room. She adores the way she sighs and moans and grasps her head even closer to her center. María José loves that she is able to see her like this, loves that she gets to see what Paulina De La Mora is like with her walls down, unabashedly taking her pleasure and letting herself want and curse and beg. </p><p> </p><p>And so María José acquiesces, speeding up her movements and pressing the flat of her tongue exactly where she knows Paulina is most sensitive. It doesn't take long for her to come this way, especially after being licked and sucked for so long, and María José feels her coming before she hears it, relishing the rush of warmth and even more juices on her tongue as Paulina does her best to muffle her moans. </p><p> </p><p>Her wife had said, once, that hormone therapy is responsible for María José being so horny all the time. After all, they aren't exactly teenagers anymore, and one would think that she's way past desperately making out in dark corners and getting handsy at every opportunity. But María José never got around to correcting her, as Paulina — beautiful and brilliant as she is — was only partly right. The hormones do make her horny, but only just so. For María José, desire is a function of whom she’s with, and if she was being very honest, the opportunity to make the love of her life climax like this is more powerful and more… well...  <em> motivating </em> than any shot of estrogen.</p><p> </p><p>María José presses her own legs together to relieve some of the pressure there. <em> There’s time enough for that later, too, </em> she thinks, glancing up at her wife’s face. There is a dull pain on her knees, but she hardly minds. Drawing out her pleasure like this feels almost as good as when her wife reciprocates — and Paulina will do so with much gusto later, she knows, <em> the competitive creature she is </em> — and she feels heat rise up in her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Her finger traces lazy circles around Paulina's clit as she rests her head on the brunette's thigh and enjoys the smaller aftershocks her fingers are able to draw out. Glancing up at her still incoherent wife, María José thinks about how much she adores this kind of desperate haze, full of lust and love, and so when Paulina's breathing slows down somewhat, María José decides she wants to give her a little more and promptly plants her tongue where her finger had just been playing. </p><p> </p><p>This takes the smaller woman by surprise, and María José enjoys the shaky moans she is able to manage as she inserts a finger, and then two, inside her wife. One hand keeping Paulina steady by the hips, she expertly curves her fingers and finds her g-spot easily. </p><p> </p><p>She knows it won’t take her long to come again — and in truth, María José thinks overstimulating her has become almost a hobby now — and so she encourages her. She moves the hand on her hip up over her sensitive sides and towards her nipples, contrasting her hard and fast strokes with soft caresses and sweet murmurs that are equal parts filthy and tender. </p><p> </p><p>María José loves sex with Paulina, loves the art of giving, and taking, and giving even more. And sure enough, her efforts are repaid in full, and then some, when a tremor takes over her wife’s body for the second time and she moans loud enough for María José to say a small prayer that their son was fast asleep upstairs. She licks her through it — she never stops until her wife says so — and when Paulina giggles and murmurs how she doesn’t think she can come a third time, María José knows this isn’t a no, but a challenge.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you can, Pau.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok, I'm going to go pray the rosary or something after this. I hope you enjoyed reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Red Box</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The first time Paulina saw the red box was when she first moved in with María José in Madrid. She had been unpacking her clothes into the shelves the blonde had so kindly cleared for her, when she noticed it peeking out from the other half of the closet.</p><p> </p><p>Curious, and after a quick look over her shoulder to see if anybody was coming, she reached a hand out to lift the lid and peer inside. </p><p> </p><p>And so it was that she first laid eyes on María José's toys. </p><p> </p><p>Immediately, she retracted her hand and the lid fell back in place — the box, and the clothes stored neatly around it, looking just as they did a few seconds ago. Paulina looked around her once more to check if anybody had seen and, satisfied that no one had, went back to her own business.</p><p> </p><p>Before long, her clothes were folded and placed into their new homes, her just-emptied bags were hidden away, and the red box, along with its fascinating contents, moved into its own space in her mind, too. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn't like she was <em> too </em> shocked. After all, her María José had always been a sensual creature. Even when they were married, they could certainly get <em> creative</em>. And despite her siblings' not-so-subtle teasing, she wasn't a prude at all. Her girlfriend could very much attest to that. </p><p> </p><p>No, it wasn't those things. She was just curious, she had decided. Paulina was old enough to know what those contraptions were, but she had never really thought she'd see one up close — much less two!</p><p> </p><p>And so, though it had been just a split-second moment, the image was a constant in her mind over the next few days. She didn't get any chances to take another look because of everything they had to settle with her papers, Bruno's schooling, and generally getting used to the delightful reality of living with each other again (even if the arrangement had to include Purificación). And when she'd find herself in the room she now shared with her woman, the blonde would be right there with her, so the most she could do was steal glances every now and then at the small, enigmatic box at the bottom shelf of María José's half of the closet. </p><p> </p><p>Inside, she knew, lay two long pieces of silicone, rounded at one end and flat on the other, one pink, and the other a dark purple. </p><p> </p><p>If María José had noticed that something was a little bit off about her demeanor recently, she didn't show it. Paulina guessed that if anything, her ex-wife had chalked her behavior up to the newness of her big move to the city that used to be their special escape — away from <em> chismosas</em>, her family, and the press. Both the city and they themselves were so far changed from what they were before, and Paulina felt that the entire ordeal was like meeting up with an old friend. There was also, of course, the matter of her recent loss. Virginia's death and Diego's betrayal pained Paulina still, and she knew that that would hurt and anger her for a while. But for now, at least, the gears in her head were running in the interest of a new mystery that needed to be solved. </p><p> </p><p>One night, her curiosity finally won out. </p><p> </p><p>She had been lying on her side, cheeks still warm from the night's activities and legs entangled with María José's, who was pressed snugly against her back. Paulina can feel the blonde's breath hot on the back of her neck, light caresses on her waist and hips refusing to let her heart rate go down. Maybe it was just the novelty of being back together after so long, or the new discoveries they both were making every night, but Paulina thought that she hadn't felt this hungry for her lover in years.</p><p> </p><p>Despite this distraction, however, her eyes landed of their own accord on the red box on the bottom shelf, its unmistakable shape just visible in the dim light. And before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "María José, can I ask you something?" </p><p> </p><p>"Hmm?" came her lazy reply, lips landing delicately on the back of her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>"What's in that box?" </p><p> </p><p>The body behind her froze as María José followed her line of sight. Paulina turned around to face her ex-wife, whose eyes refused to meet hers. "Well, that —, " she began, a little bit unsettled. The brunette pushed down a laugh threatening to come out of her mouth, and instead motioned for María José to continue. "That is, um…."</p><p> </p><p>"They're your toys," Paulina said, matter-of-factly, and wished she could take a picture of her ex-wife's face at that very moment. "It's okay, I got curious." </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, well," María José replied, still looking a bit flustered, but seemingly relieved to know she already knew. "I had been single for a while, you see, <em> cariño,</em> and these things — well, they're actually quite… well… good." </p><p> </p><p>Paulina chuckled at this, and placed a hand on her cheek to try and calm her down. The blonde took a deep breath in and laughed, everything about the situation increasingly funny to the both of them. María José wrapped her arms around her to pull her close, and Paulina enjoyed the delicious feeling of her breasts pressed against her own for a moment before pulling away slightly to look intently into her grey eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Show me.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Little did she know that the night her ex-wife first showed her what exactly those toys can do was the first step towards eventually finding herself loitering nervously on a busy sidewalk, hands stuffed inside her pockets to fight off the slight chill in the air, and looking at the small, unassuming storefront across the street.</p><p> </p><p>"Pau," María José said, a slight curve in her lips and a glint in her eye. "Calm down." </p><p> </p><p>Paulina paused her fidgeting to look pointedly at her ex-wife. “I <em> am </em> calm,” she insisted. For a second, she let herself get distracted by the utter sight that was her María José, the sun shining off her blonde hair as the dress she had picked for the day — a lavender flowing thing that showed off her curves — fluttered slightly in the autumn wind. </p><p> </p><p>"I am very calm," she said, a little softer this time. Maybe if she said it she could believe it. But despite pushing forty and knowing full well this was something she wanted to do, she can't help but still feel a little nervous. "How did I even get here?" she muttered, mostly to herself. </p><p> </p><p>"You know why, Pau." </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, to get a toy." </p><p> </p><p>"Good girl." María José patted her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders reassuringly.</p><p> </p><p>"Is this because you don't want to share yours anymore?" Paulina asked, jutting out her bottom lip. </p><p> </p><p>"Of course I do! I like sharing with you very much." </p><p> </p><p>“Then let’s go home and do that!”</p><p> </p><p>“Later, Pau,” the blonde replied laughing. “First, we’re going to get one that belongs to the both of us.” When Paulina’s pout didn’t budge, she continued, “Please?”</p><p> </p><p>She can’t say no to a smile like that.</p><p> </p><p>And so, with a deep breath to steel herself and a straight back <em> because she is a De La Mora, damn it</em>, Paulina marched herself to the minimalist white door across the street.</p><p> </p><p>Before this day, she had imagined dark and dirty hole-in-the-wall places with sketchy staff and racy displays, but the sight that greeted her can not be farther from all that. In fact… it was actually quite nice. The walls were painted a light pink, lined with driftwood shelves stocked with a variety of different machines as well as tasteful erotic posters depicting the female form. There were display cases, too, and a cozy rug that tied the room together.</p><p> </p><p>A bell had rung as she opened the door, María José a step behind her, and Paulina felt a slight sense of relief at the place her partner had recommended.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, how can I help you today?” a friendly voice asked, and Paulina turned to see a petite redhead in a dark green sweater and baby blue overalls.</p><p> </p><p>Before Paulina can respond, however, the girl — her small but stylish nametag read “Lila” — caught sight of María José and chirped, “Oh, it’s you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, hello, Lila,” came the blonde’s reply. Paulina turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t take her girlfriend to be a regular, but she supposed you learn something new every day.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s so good to see you! So, what can I do for you guys?” Lila asked again, looking expectantly between the both of them.</p><p> </p><p>Paulina felt a hand land on her shoulder as María José said, “Well, my girlfriend wanted to take a look around.”</p><p> </p><p>At the word <em> girlfriend, </em>Lila’s smile grew even wider, and she stepped aside to gesture towards a row of products lined neatly along three rows of shelving. “For one of my favorite customers and her girlfriend, some of our bestsellers for couples are over here!”</p><p> </p><p>She and María José walked towards the general direction Lila pointed at to look at the display. In truth, the word also had an effect on Paulina, something that she couldn’t help inwardly chuckling at. At one point, she had already been María José’s <em> wife </em> — surely being called a <em> novia </em>in front of other people would feel like the most normal thing. But it didn’t, and after everything they’ve been through, Paulina felt a thrill down her spine walking with her and being a couple in a public space again, even if the public space itself was an adult toy store.</p><p> </p><p>The display Lila pointed them to had shelves of things that looked like what María José already had at home, and some that didn’t at all. Her gaze fell on a row of toys that came in curious shapes. One looked like a sandy seashell, while the model next to it resembled a little maroon bird. These were next to a pink, egg-shaped toy and an odd one shaped like an octopus with three legs and a rounded head. She couldn’t resist picking it up and squeezing. There were some that looked like beads strung together — “For your kegels,” María José explained, when she noticed Paulina looking — and some wands that looked like curved microphones. The ones on the next shelf were a lot more straightforward: long dildos complete with veins for full effect, as well as models that seemed to be designed to look the least human-like as possible in bright pinks and purples like the ones they had at home. One even came in rainbow stripes, which made Paulina chuckle. <em> Orgullo siempre, indeed. </em></p><p> </p><p>It took a few minutes, but after some initial shyness, Paulina enjoyed studying the different toys while Lila stayed at a safe distance, far enough to let her and María José enjoy some privacy but close enough to assist or explain whenever Paulina had a question the blonde couldn’t answer. She could see why her girlfriend liked this place and felt safe to shop here — enough to apparently become familiar with the staff.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, she picked out some items and paid for them at the counter. The first item was a harness made of soft garment leather that Lila showed her how to put on and adjust, and came with a dark blue dildo that reminded Paulina of her favorite nail polish. Plus, María José assured her that the harness was compatible with one of the toys she already had, just in case she wanted to mix and match. The other item she decided to get was more of an impulse buy than anything, but there was something about the round, pink toy she first noticed a while ago that caught her fancy, and Lila had showed her how it vibrates harder the more you squeeze it. There were certainly quite a few things she and María José can do with the thing, Paulina thought with a smile, as the redhead wrapped their purchases and gave them their receipt.</p><p> </p><p>And so with one last smile to Lila and many <em> thank you</em>s from both sides, Paulina and María José left the store a tiny bit poorer — but a lot more excited — than they came in.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Later that evening, Paulina was in their room reading the little manual that came with one of the day's purchases when María José entered, fresh from her evening shower. She heard a soft chuckle before the blonde asked, "What are you doing, all serious?" </p><p> </p><p>"I'm reading the manual," she replied. <em> Wasn't it obvious</em>? she thought, though she supposed the sight of her did look just a tiny bit silly: her in her reading glasses, cross-legged in the middle of their bed, toys strewn around, and booklet in hand. </p><p> </p><p>At this, María José laughed and sat down next to her, peering over at the small manual. "Studying for an exam?" </p><p> </p><p>"Stop mocking me!" Paulina replied, even as she laughed, too. </p><p> </p><p>To her credit, the blonde tried to keep a straight face, which she was successful at for approximately two seconds, before breaking out into a guffaw, louder than before. </p><p> </p><p>"What?" Paulina challenged, setting the manual down and brandishing her brand new dildo in front of her girlfriend's face. "If I'm going to fuck you with this, I want to do it right." </p><p> </p><p>María José's laughter subsided at this, and she ran a hand along Paulina's hair and down her shoulder. It was such a small thing, but already, Paulina felt something in her core stir. She had meant to go on and talk some more about the things she had just read: How to clean the toy, activate and toggle between its 12 different vibration settings, and even program a custom one. But María José was so good at distracting her, and despite her serious studying, a part of her just wanted to dive in and learn by doing. </p><p> </p><p>"You always fuck me right," María José replied, her voice suddenly much lower and softer, her eyes meeting Paulina's. The blonde took her hand, which was still holding the dildo like a weapon, and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. The wicked glint on her eyes was still there though, and Paulina smiled as María José asked, "So, learned anything interesting?" </p><p> </p><p>"Plenty," she replied. "Let me show you."</p><p> </p><p>--- </p><p> </p><p>Back in Mexico, and in the bed she now shares with her wife, Paulina's mind wanders to that autumn evening in Madrid as she scrolls through her phone and leans back on the headboard. Quarantine has been uneventful, which is a stark contrast to everything that has happened to her over the past two years, and she supposes that she's learning to embrace this downtime in her own way.</p><p> </p><p>She hears the door to their bathroom open, and looks up just as María José enters, fresh from her evening shower. She's wearing a simple sleep shirt to bed this evening, but looks no less fabulous as when she's in her heels. <em> How rude of her to be so beautiful without makeup on, </em>Paulina thinks to herself, just as her wife spots the phone in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>"Pau," she says reproachfully, walking towards her. "Our bed is a no-phone zone, remember?" Despite her tone, she's smiling as she pushes Paulina's hand — along with her phone — gently to the side and sits down by her hip. </p><p> </p><p>"Good evening, <em> princesa," </em>Paulina says in response, just in time before the blonde leans forward and presses a soft kiss on her lips. Her damp hair is falling forwards in a way that blocks everything else from Paulina's sight, and she relishes the closeness, as well as the smell of her conditioner, as she breathes in. "Sorry for breaking the rules, but I didn't want Bruno to see what I was doing." </p><p> </p><p>Leaning back, María José asks, suddenly curious, "What were you doing, <em> cariño</em>?" </p><p> </p><p>"Well…" Paulina starts, lifting her hand back up from where María José had pushed it to show her wife her phone.  Grey eyes widen as she scrolls through the catalogue she had been looking at, and so she continues, "Lord knows I got lucky last week, when Bruno didn't notice my strap when we were sorting through all our things… and well, I just got curious about what else is out there. Do you remember the first time we went to that store together, in Madrid?" </p><p> </p><p>"Of course," María José replies, laughing. "You were so shy!" </p><p> </p><p>"Because —!" she exclaims, throwing her arms up, at a loss for words to describe just how overwhelming it had been. "Plus, I didn't have the advantage of already being such a regular — the clerk already knew you by name!" </p><p> </p><p>"Yes," María José acquiesces. "But eventually you looked like a kid at the candy store yourself." </p><p> </p><p>Paulina laughs at this, and eventually gestures back to her phone. "They've come up with so many different inventions now… how fascinating." </p><p> </p><p>And it's true. In her short search that evening, Paulina had seen new vibrating toys you can control remotely with your phone, colorful straps, toys designed for non-binary and trans folks, and even strapless models designed to be inserted inside both partners. She blushes at the thought, just as María José chuckles, saying, "Only you would call all this silicone and batteries fascinating." </p><p> </p><p>Paulina gasps in mock offense. "And here I was, about to ask if you'd like to share a new toy with me!" </p><p> </p><p>"You're so pretty when you're angry," María José says, smiling and taking Paulina's hand in her own and kissing each of her fingers in turn, until finally, the brunette returns her smile.</p><p> </p><p>And, in that low voice that never fails to send a thrill down Paulina's spine, the blonde says, "Thank you. I'm in if you are." </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is one of those chapters that sort of refused to let you rest until you've outlined, drafted, and edited the thing, and it's all because I decided to rewatch Season 2 the other week and saw that scene with MaJo unpacking her toys as soon as she arrived in Mexico 😂 I found out today that sales for toys have skyrocketed in recent months, and well... Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Thistle and delphinium (Part 1 of 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi there! It’s been a while. This update is divided into two chapters, and I would like to say that that was the result of elaborate planning, but it would be a lie. I’ve had one half drafted for ages but it never felt truly complete — just horny — but I got it to work with this first half and some tweaks, which makes me very happy. I hope this brings you joy as well! I'm very rusty, but thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She's never told anyone, but María José Riquelme had a bit of a thing for Paulina de la Mora when she's angry. And by "thing," she means that she kind of finds it hot. As in, it makes her want to be pressed close to her, behind her, over her, under her... doesn't matter how, really, as long as there are no clothes involved. </p><p> </p><p>Try as she might, she can't quite place her finger on why. But something about the tiny crease on her cute forehead and the way her mouth curves stubbornly down <em> just so </em> when she’s angry never fails to rile María José up. And though it sometimes ends up in a fight — <em> well, okay, more than sometimes, </em> she admits to herself, <em> but that was before we got married again </em> — it can turn out very well for both of them, too. These days, she can usually talk her wife out of cursing and scheming against whoever it was she happened to be mad at, and then Paulina can use up that energy on other, decidedly more pleasant things. Some of her best nights (and days, and afternoons), María José thinks, were a result of just that.</p><p> </p><p>The problem is, it can get complicated if the object of Paulina's anger is María José herself. And she always just <em> knows </em> when that is the case. </p><p> </p><p>Plus, she thinks, as she watches her wife chop up tomatoes with more force than necessary, she doesn’t even know what she did to make her angry this time.</p><p> </p><p>For what feels like the thousandth time, María José mentally reviews what she did in the past 24 hours. <em> Let's see, </em> she thinks, <em> I had to do some overtime last night for the workplace discrimination case… </em>She had finished up in her home office pretty late, and though Paulina stirred a little when she climbed under the covers, María José kissed her lightly on the forehead before they both fell into deep sleep. So, she supposes, it probably wasn't the overtime. </p><p> </p><p>This morning was pretty standard, too. Paulina had gotten up early as usual, and they had their coffee and breakfast more or less amicably. Bruno made a joke about baby Pato overtaking his uncle and aunt in wisdom, which earned him a chuckle from María José and a disapproving look from Paulina, but that was it. Plus, the blonde suspected at the time, Paulina probably agreed in secret. But then again, maybe not, and that might be why she's so angry? It doesn't explain why she doesn't seem to be mad at Bruno, though. Just María José. </p><p> </p><p>After breakfast and clean up, they had yoga as usual out on the veranda, and María José had forgone their usual shared shower so she could make a quick call to Delia. She also wrote a very special letter, and by the time she had sealed the envelope and its contents, Paulina had come out of the shower looking as lovely as she always does. And so María José gave the brunette a quick kiss before jumping into the shower herself. She seemed fine then, too. </p><p> </p><p>After that, things were a bit of a blur. Her boss had wanted some revisions on the litigation papers she had prepared last night and another big client had come knocking virtually on her e-mail inbox. She had only had enough time to prepare a quick sandwich and a smile for Paulina before heading back into her home office for a working lunch, and she supposes it was then that the brunette's little frown started to appear. Paulina didn't come into the office to check in on her like she usually does all afternoon, too. </p><p> </p><p>María José finally finished work just as the sun finished setting, and came into the kitchen to an unmistakably angry Paulina. </p><p> </p><p><em> And what a day for her to be angry, too</em>, the blonde thinks with a sigh. Today might seem like just any other day out of 365 days in a year, but it's special because it marks six months since their second wedding, and María José had prepared a small surprise and even ordered some flowers. She asked Delia to have them delivered at 8 pm so they would both be done with work and chores, but it is already 7:45 pm and Paulina doesn't look like she's in the mood. Perhaps she should call it off if she didn't want flowers thrown at her face? </p><p> </p><p>Just as she is considering this, however, Paulina lets out a loud yelp and the knife she was holding falls with a loud clang on the floor. It all happens way too fast, and before María José could move, the chopping board is red and their son, who had been setting the table, yells, "Mamá!" </p><p> </p><p>They both rush to her side, Paulina cradling one hand in another. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright. I’m fine,” she insists, and as María José maneuvers the brunette to the sink to wash the blood off, she finds that she's right. It is only a gash — a little deeper than what she would’ve been happy to see, but not too bad that it wouldn’t heal on its own.</p><p> </p><p>But still, she exclaims, “Ay Pau, no you’re not!” and there is a flurry of activity as they wash the cut with water and Bruno comes back with a towel to wrap her hand in and add a little pressure. Their son moves away as María José steers them both to the nearest chair and has Paulina sit down. She kneels in front of her wife to take a better look at the injury, and though the angry red line is definitely there, it is clean and should heal in time. She tells the brunette this and looks up at her face, seeing that for now, Paulina has forgotten to be cross with her like she had been all afternoon, her eyes wide and precious. </p><p> </p><p>“Bruno, go and get the first aid kit,” she says softly, eyes not leaving her wife’s. María José sees their still-dazed son move hastily in her peripheral vision, and for a moment they just look at each other — the tension of the day suddenly somehow even more intense.</p><p> </p><p>It’s María José who breaks the silence by saying, “You’re angry with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Paulina opens her mouth to respond, but a loud knock on their front door startles them both. It is a heartbeat later when Bruno returns with their first aid kit, and a woman’s voice comes booming in from outside, “Good evening! Special delivery!”</p><p> </p><p>“Delia?” Paulina asks, incredulous.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well of course.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>María José takes the kit from Bruno and motions for him to go and answer the door. Confused, the boy dutifully rushes to the door, puts on one of the masks they’ve hung alongside their keys, and turns the knob. The door opens to reveal Delia holding a beautiful bouquet the blonde had specifically requested: cobalt thistle and icy delphinium (symbolizing joy), contrasting against fiery proteas (courage and diversity) and dahlias (Delia’s specialty, and one that symbolizes lifelong commitment).</p><p> </p><p>Delia’s smile — something even a facemask apparently can’t seem to contain — falters a little when her gaze shifts from Bruno to his moms. <em> Whatever Delia had been expecting to walk into tonight</em>, María José thinks wryly, <em> it isn’t this</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much for this, Delia,” Bruno says quickly, grabbing her attention first, and then the bouquet. “It’s very good to see you! How’s the shop going?”</p><p> </p><p>María José says a silent thank you to their son, who somehow grew up so quick on his feet, and turns back to look at Paulina. She zones out of Bruno’s small talk, and wordlessly, focuses instead on getting the gauze from the kit and wrapping it tenderly around her wife’s wounded hand.</p><p> </p><p>“You got that for me?” the brunette asks, her voice barely above a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” María José replies. “There’s something else, too, but let’s get you wrapped up first, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Her wife nods, her expression unreadable, and they both turn and wave at Delia as she bids them goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much for this, Delia! Let’s talk soon!” María José says, forcing a smile, and finally, Delia closes the door and disappears into the night. There is a pause before she lets out a sigh and turns to her son. “Thank you for handling that like a professional, <em>cariño</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Bruno takes off his mask and smiles at this. “I learned from the best,” he replies, sending a cheeky wink to his mamá before making his way to the stairs and presumably back to his room.</p><p> </p><p>With a chuckle, María José calls after him, “Dinner will be ready in 20 minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>She glances up to see Paulina with a small smile on her face — the first one in what feels like a long while. Once María José is satisfied with the gauze, she pats her wife gently on the head and turns to finish the cooking. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Paulina says.</p><p> </p><p>The blonde turns back and smiles at her, the frustration of the day all but forgotten. “You’re welcome, <em> mi vida</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Dinner, as it turns out, is easy enough to assemble. María José couldn’t use the tomatoes anymore for obvious reasons, and she doesn’t have the energy to pick up where Paulina had left off with the other ingredients. So instead, she fishes out some leftovers from the fridge and heats them all up while Paulina, with her good hand, carefully places the flowers into an empty vase. </p><p> </p><p>In fairness to herself, María José thinks, as the microwave hums and Paulina works in silence, the combination she chose is not bad at all. The blues and reds clash so dramatically that Delia had sounded a bit worried on the phone, but the entire thing worked all the same. </p><p> </p><p>Paulina stays silent all throughout their dinner of leftover chicken fajitas, even as Bruno chatters on about doing his first ever Instagram Live — whatever that was — tomorrow, and that they shouldn’t bother him in the afternoon. María José nods and chuckles at all the right pauses, but she is distracted. She can almost see the gears turning in her wife’s head. </p><p> </p><p>Afterwards, with Bruno volunteering to do the dishes, the blonde finds herself standing by their bed, holding the envelope she had prepared earlier during the day. Her wife is sitting on the armchair by the vanity, and María José is not sure why she is so nervous.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope you liked the flowers,” she begins tentatively.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never seen that combination in the shop before. Did you pick it out yourself?” Paulina asks, her expression still unreadable. When the blonde nods, she says, “You have a talent for it.” </p><p> </p><p>"Thank you. I am part of the family, after all," María José jokes. There is a pause, before she raises the envelope she is holding, suddenly remembering it. “I made you this, too. You can open it now if you like." </p><p> </p><p>At this, Paulina shakes her head and laughs softly. María José opened her mouth to ask what was funny, when the brunette says, "All day, I was so upset with you because I thought you had forgotten." </p><p> </p><p>"What?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, you were up until late last night and you didn't say anything this morning," Paulina explains. "And when it looked like you were going to spend all day <em> and </em> night in front of that laptop again… I got upset." </p><p> </p><p>She finishes speaking with another melodic laugh, louder this time, and María José feels a weight lift from her shoulders. She chuckles, too, taking a step towards her wife and saying, "You thought I forgot? After I chased you down with a stolen motorcycle just so I can marry you, on this day half a year ago?" </p><p> </p><p>Paulina doesn't answer, but instead moves to their chest of drawers and pulls something out. She turns back to María José, revealing a carefully wrapped box, and bites her lip.</p><p> </p><p>"I have a surprise for you, too."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To be continued!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Proteas and dahlias... and a sunflower (Part 2 of 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... this took a long time to churn out. I have several excuses, so you can take your pick: several natural disasters, a couple of depressive episodes, and plain old writer’s block! But I do want to thank everyone who's taken the time to read this little story in this odd corner of the internet, and I hope 2021 is kinder to all of us.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I have a surprise for you, too."</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, María José just looks at her — the envelope in her hand temporarily forgotten as her gaze shifts from her face, to the box in her hand, and back — and it dawns on Paulina how ridiculous the last 24 hours had been. This is so, so far from what she had imagined this day would be. In her ideal scenario, they'd be well on their way to a second or third orgasm by now (she hadn’t decided how much time she wanted to spend just teasing), not staring at each other from opposite sides of their suddenly too-large room. This was way too much distance between them, she thinks, both literally and figuratively, but if she was being honest with herself, it's all in large part because she let her emotions get in the way of her mind. Again. </p><p> </p><p>A part of Paulina kind of wishes she can rewind and redo their half-anniversary, maybe not jump to conclusions about María José's apparent lack of action. Another, equally rash part of her wants to  jump on top of her wife and kiss her silly… but that won't really solve the issue she created. <em> It would be nice, though.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Instead, Paulina takes a deep breath. She's tired of being angry with the love of her life. "Would you like to open this first, or should we start with that?" she asks tentatively, gesturing towards the envelope in María José's hand. </p><p> </p><p>"Ay, <em> cariño</em>," her love says with a sigh, along with a small smile that helps assure Paulina that she hasn't messed everything up… at least not irreparably. What did she do to deserve this patience?</p><p> </p><p>María José raises her arms towards Paulina, who closes the distance in four quick steps, tucking her head into the space underneath the blonde's chin where it seemed to belong. She lets herself be enveloped in her wife's arms, and takes a deep breath in. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>She isn't quite used to the words. After all, every offense in her family was covered up, hushed away, made invisible even if it would still sting years later, end of story. And that was the way it always had been. But she had promised herself that this family, the one she's building with the love of her life, will be different, and so she says again, with more strength this time, "I'm sorry, María José." </p><p> </p><p>"Shh, it's alright, Pau," the blonde croons, one hand stroking her hair and the other wrapped reassuringly around her back. Paulina could feel the envelope pressed against her side from where María José holds it. "Besides, you're kind of hot when you're angry." </p><p> </p><p>"Is that why we fight so often?" she quips, unable to help herself. </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe," her wife replies, and Paulina can almost hear the smile in her voice. "Making up is always nice though, yes?" </p><p> </p><p>At this, Paulina nods and looks up. This is much better, she thinks. Everything is, when they're together. And so she leads María José by the hand, guiding her to sit on their bed across from her. Suddenly awkward, she draws her legs up and sets the box down in between them. </p><p> </p><p>"Yours first," she says, reaching out a hand to ask for the envelope, which the blonde wordlessly hands over.</p><p> </p><p>Carefully, she opens the envelope and pulls out a delicately folded letter, feeling María José's eyes on her as she does so. It's heavier than she thought it would be, the cream-colored card stock feeling luxurious in her hands, and it's so like her wife to pay attention to small details like that. The paper even smells like her, Paulina thinks, as she unfolds it, taking care to not disturb the gauze on her hand, and begins to read, her voice barely above a whisper. </p><p> </p><p>“Thistle: protection and pride. Delphinium: encouragement and joy,” she reads, remembering the blue flowers in the striking bouquet presented to her just an hour ago. The next two lines, then, were the reds. “Protea: transformation and courage. Dahlia: a lasting bond and lifelong commitment.”</p><p> </p><p>Underneath this is a letter, and Paulina takes a deep breath before reading. "My dear wife," she begins, heart already aching in her chest. "I've grown accustomed to the easy routine of falling asleep in your arms, and waking up to the touch of your lips or the smell of breakfast, or both. It's more than I ever wanted, or I let myself want, but it's been our reality these past six months, and I don't think I can thank you enough for it. I'm so happy we found our way back to each other. I know now that it's always been you, Paulina, in this life and whatever comes after... Yours always, María José."</p><p> </p><p>Paulina sets the paper down and looks up to the face of an angel — her angel. On her next breath, she rises to her knees and closes the distance between them once more to press her lips to her wife's forehead. She's a bit lost for words, and so she settles on small kisses on María José's cheeks, eyelids, nose, and mouth.</p><p> </p><p><em> This </em> she wasn't expecting at all, feeling a sudden panic over her own gift. It was special, too, of course, but the note was much shorter because Paulina had thought that <em> she </em>was the emotional one, the romantic one, the one who would propose out of a police car because she simply could not imagine a life without María José. And yet here they were, with flowers prepared by her wife, whose only wish was that she stay out of trouble for the foreseeable future when Paulina was so breathlessly declaring her undying love. She almost laughs at the thought. </p><p> </p><p>"Thank you," she says instead, looking straight into her wife's eyes. "Thank you." She kisses her wife once, intending to keep it short and get back to their gifts, but she presses her lips to her wife's for a second time, because how can she not? This, this is a blessing she didn't imagine she would get either, and yet, here they both are.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, María José herself doesn't seem to mind the little detour, one hand already holding her gently by the waist and another cupping her jaw. Once again, it strikes Paulina how there is no longer any need to rush. There is no Chiva, no Jenny, no Kim, no <em> florería </em> to run or siblings to help out of their own crises… nothing they have to attend to except for the always exhilarating feeling of María José's lips on hers, the gentle but sure movements of her tongue, and the little sounds she makes when Paulina threads her fingers through her blonde hair.</p><p> </p><p>When they do finally part, a few moments later (but <em> too soon</em>, Paulina still thinks), the brunette watches as María José catches her breath, hair tousled and gaze a bit unfocused, chest rising with every inhale. It takes Paulina a couple of seconds to remind herself what she's supposed to be doing, too. It's kind of silly, she thinks, as she settles back down on her sit bones and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her wife's ear. They've been together long enough to not be jumping on each other all the time. Paulina always thinks they'd settle down eventually, that they'd stop acting like she had just snuck into María José's college dorm room for the night. Maybe one day they will, which would be another type of exciting, she supposes, but today — despite its imperfections — is clearly not that day. </p><p> </p><p>A few breaths later, she clears her throat and sees the corners of María José's lips turn up in a sly smile. Maybe she was thinking that, too. Chuckling at the situation, she reaches for the black box once again. </p><p> </p><p>"So, it's not a dazzling bouquet delivered by Delia," Paulina starts, nervousness making her cheeks feel warmer by the second. "But do you remember our first date? Well, I'm not sure if it was a proper date, but we had bumped into each other at that party and —" </p><p> </p><p>"You asked if we can take a walk, yes," María José says, green eyes steady on hers. Paulina smiles, both because she is pleased at the easy recall, and to show the blonde that yes, she was going somewhere with this. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes. Do you remember that garden I found you in?" </p><p> </p><p>"I remember being very nervous to see you," her wife says, giggling. That day had been heavy for her, she remembers, but the unexpected sight of Paulina brought other feelings fluttering to her chest.  "I wanted to impress you."</p><p> </p><p>"You did," Paulina replies, matter-of-factly. “I seem to remember dancing and kissing by the end of the night.”</p><p> </p><p>“I seem to remember you kissing me first.”</p><p> </p><p>At this, Paulina can only settle for a light slap on her wife's thigh. She hates that she's right, but it's no matter. That kiss was just the first step of many that led them right here. </p><p> </p><p>"You had plucked out a flower from the garden," Paulina continues, waving away the smirk that had formed on María José's lips with her good hand. "I'm pretty sure the homeowners wouldn’t have approved, they seemed to care for their garden very much, but you did it anyway. I can't believe I married a petty criminal twice —" </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sure I can argue my way out of it in court." </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sure, too," Paulina smiles, temporarily distracted by the look in María José's eyes and the small circles her wife had begun tracing on her thigh. "But anyway, I saved it. The flower."</p><p> </p><p>At this, she opens the box in her hands. Inside was a smaller package, as well as a card. She takes out the piece of paper, the flower taped carefully to it by the stem, to show the blonde, whose playful fingers stilled. Paulina smiles. She had found it pressed between old IDs and reward cards in a beat up wallet she had unearthed during her and Bruno's big clean-up project a few weeks back, and had waited for this opportunity to show María José. It was a common garden sunflower, nothing like the exotic blooms the blonde had gifted her today, and small, too, but it held so much meaning for her. The color had faded over the years, but she found that it was well-preserved, and unsure as she had originally been about picking the perfect gift for the occasion, unexpectedly finding this one felt like a sign from the universe — not that Paulina would admit to believing in silly things like that, of course.</p><p> </p><p>"I forgot I even had it," the brunette says to start. “But I remember carefully storing it in a thick book when I got home that night. I remember feeling in my heart that that evening was the start of something big, something special, even though I didn’t quite know how, or why.”</p><p> </p><p>María José remains silent, but her expression is soft. “After the divorce,” Paulina continues, “I thought I had thrown everything that reminded me of you out the door. Everything except Bruno, of course — he looks so much like you,” she pauses to chuckle, and the blonde smiles. ”But it just… it broke my heart to look at him, to think of you. And I always was, if I am being honest. Thinking of you, I mean. But I guess I didn’t manage to throw everything out.”</p><p> </p><p>At this, María José reaches for her hand, which had been nervously fiddling with the ends of the gauze wrapped around the other, and threads their fingers together. <em> It’s okay, </em> her eyes seem to say, as her thumb pressed gentle circles on Paulina’s palm. <em> I’m here.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“The note is mostly just for the gift itself, if you’d like to open it,” the brunette says, and so María José sets her hand down gently to reach for the carefully wrapped package. In it was a pair of glasses, and a small smile played on the blonde’s lips as she unfolds it and sets the pair on the bridge of her nose. She looks at her wife for approval, turning her head lightly from side to side.</p><p> </p><p>Even in the dim light, Paulina knows she had chosen well. The frame was built of a light titanium in a pastel pink and dark brown, which played well against her tanned skin, and the ends are turned up in a light cat-eye shape. <em> It suits her</em>, Paulina thinks, pleased, but so does almost everything. </p><p> </p><p>María José takes the smile on Paulina’s face as approval, and then reaches once more for the card. The note there was short, painfully so, Paulina thinks, especially compared to the card her wife had given her, but she watches as the blonde takes a quick look and reads the handwritten message out loud: “The better to look at me with.”</p><p> </p><p>There is a pause, and Paulina feels her face redden even more. She had thought, at the time of writing, that she was being witty, but after the entire ordeal of the day it didn’t feel quite right, and so she stammers, “Well, you’d been working long hours at your desk and complained about your eyes hurting.” She never used to be bothered about how slowly she speaks, but now it feels like she can’t get words out fast enough. “And I thought that those new glasses, they come with blue light protection for when you’re working on your laptop and —”</p><p> </p><p>A melodic laugh catches her by surprise, hands pausing in mid-air as she was frantically trying to explain. She looks up at the blonde’s face, which, miraculously, was formed in a gorgeous smile, eyes closed behind the new glasses. Paulina can’t help but chuckle along too, if a little confused, but as long as they were no longer fighting, she supposes she’ll take it.</p><p> </p><p>When she finishes, María José straightens up, looks at the note, and back at Paulina.</p><p> </p><p>“And here I thought I was the practical one.”</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quick note that their first 'date' is inspired loosely by Chapter 2 of Majolination's <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131440/chapters/58182712">Los Caminos de la Vida</a>, which is, in my opinion, required reading for any Majolina fan. She's amazing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Tú y Yo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yep, it's a double update, because I love these two. Technically follows right after the previous one, but can go alone if you're not here for the plot ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Much later, after they had washed up for the day, taking extra care to keep Paulina's wrapped hand away from the water, the brunette switches on the small speaker Bruno had given her as a gift for her birthday. Music, she thinks, seems like an apt way to end the day, and she finishes picking out a song just as María José emerges from their bathroom in a silk nightdress that made Paulina’s mind think of other things that are also great ways to end a day.</p><p> </p><p>Her wife smiles as she begins to recognize the song Paulina had chosen, an old favorite that reminded her of stolen afternoons, nervous kisses, and discovery. It’s slow and familiar, and the brunette reaches her arms out, a wordless invitation that María José takes by stepping forward and pressing her body gently against Paulina’s. She clasps her wife’s hand with her good hand, and rests the other gently on María José’s waist as a voice, deep and smooth, croons, “<em>Voy a apagar la luz para pensar en ti…</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Paulina rests her head on her wife’s shoulder, enjoying the slow movements, the feel of her wife’s breathing on her cheek, the light smell of her conditioner. She basks in the warmth of the blonde’s body, the familiar way in which they hold each other. Paulina hears her wife murmuring small <em> I love you</em>s into her hair, and she sighs deeply, finally content. </p><p> </p><p>She isn’t sure how long they stay that way, and her phone switches to the next track. It’s still Luis Miguel. They had gone to a concert once, when they were young, and she remembers having to go to Sunday mass hungover and barely functioning the next day. She had lied and told her mother she had the flu, when in reality it was the bottle of tequila they had split between the two of them still wrecking havoc in her system. It had been a lovely day, though, and Paulina shudders at the memory of the particularly delightful afternoon they spent before the concert, the electricity that had consumed her body then… and still does, now, though it has settled into a quiet hum, a deeper ache.</p><p> </p><p>After a while, Paulina feels María José’s hand move from her shoulder to the wrapped hand resting on the blonde’s waist, wordlessly lifting it into her line of sight. In truth, it no longer is all that painful. Paulina isn’t used to being doted on and fussed over, but the way her wife kept checking in on her as she bathed and got ready for bed, and the way she now scrutinizes her injury (her signature pout already forming on pink lips) makes Paulina think that maybe she can get used to it.</p><p> </p><p>“You gave me such a fright, Pau,” María José mutters, chuckling a bit.</p><p> </p><p>Paulina is just about to utter a tart reply about trying prison again when she shifts her gaze to her wife’s eyes and recognizes a bit of worry, still, and so she says, “I’m sorry, <em> princesa.</em>” At this, the blonde’s face breaks out into a tender smile that Paulina can’t help but reciprocate. “Before long it’s only going to be a scar, and we’ll be laughing about it over dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m looking forward to that.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a date then,” she jokes, and María José laughs. She relishes the look on the blonde’s face, the pout gone in favor of a warm smile, wondering for the hundredth time that evening what she did to deserve her and the life they are rebuilding together. <em> I’ll do anything for that laugh</em>. “Thank you, again, for taking care of me,” she says, and María José responds by pressing her lips gently on to her wrapped finger.</p><p> </p><p>“Anything for my wife,” she says tenderly, her grey-green eyes meeting hers.</p><p> </p><p>Almost immediately, she feels a subtle change in the energy between them. Paulina knows that María José never misses a beat when it comes to their banter, but it’s this ability to charge the air with a sensuality that is solely hers that the brunette thinks she’ll never quite get enough of. That, and something about hearing her call her <em> wife</em>, bring out a side of her even she didn’t know she had, and it is with this in mind that Paulina reaches for María José’s hand and gently turns it to look at the spot near where she had cut her own. There, she finds what she’s looking for: two light dots on her wife’s skin.</p><p> </p><p>“An old stapler accident, back when you were at university,” she whispers, by way of explanation. Her eyes never leave María José’s as she mimics the latter’s actions and presses her lips tenderly on the old wound.</p><p> </p><p>Her wife doesn’t respond outside of the beginnings of a smirk at the end of her lips, which only serves to spur Paulina on even further, a familiar heat pooling in her center.</p><p> </p><p>She reaches out to hold her wife’s other hand and pulls it up and to the side, tracing a finger up from her wrist to her bicep, along the inside of her arm. There, she knows, is a more pronounced scar, white against her skin, long and horizontal. “Puri,” she mutters simply, before kissing lightly. It was a scratch from one of Puri’s psychotic breaks that had healed badly years ago, causing the mark, and for a second Paulina wonders if she ruined the moment by mentioning her sister-in-law.</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, there is a hint of sadness in her wife’s eyes as she meets them. Paulina half-expects her to step back and walk away, but instead, María José pushes her gently, the brunette realizes a little late, towards the bed, until the backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she sits down. Wordlessly, María José kneels in front of her, hands finding purchase on her hips, taking a hold of the hem of her pajama top, and ever so slowly raising it to reveal the skin underneath. Paulina rests her weight on her hands, leaning back, as the ends of blonde hair tickle lightly at her exposed belly. Her breath hitches when the blonde finds the scar just under her abdomen, tracing it with a rough finger.</p><p> </p><p>“Bruno,” María José finally responds, meeting her gaze. Paulina’s breathing feels just a bit more labored when her wife lowers her head to place a tender kiss on the said scar. It wasn’t big — just under five inches long, and faded over the years — but the way her wife looked at it made her feel like it was the most special thing in the world. Before long, green eyes meet hers once more, a mischievous glint in them, as if daring Paulina further.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t back down.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning forward once more, Paulina grabs her wife’s shoulders and guides her back on to her feet. She looks even more like an angel this way, she thinks idly, looking up and catching a glimpse of her wife’s face, lips parted slightly, pupils dilated and looking down at her. The light forms a faint halo around her pretty blonde head, and Paulina thinks she’s never seen anything more beautiful. After a breath, she pulls gently on her wife’s dress — a dainty periwinkle piece that flowed like liquid around her finges — in silent request. María José acquiesces, and within a moment, the garment is off, the blonde has climbed onto her lap, and Paulina finds herself marveling at the feel of her wife’s skin against her own, the delicious warmth of it underneath her fingers. </p><p> </p><p>She can’t help it when she moves to kiss where María José waist curves towards her hips, her hands finding their place on either side of her thighs. It feels exhilarating to touch her, even after all these years and, Paulina supposes, <em> especially </em> after all these years, and her lips make their way slowly, purposefully up to her wife’s chest. </p><p> </p><p>By now, of course, they know each other like the back of their hands. Know how to infuriate each other just as well as how to make each other laugh, and in this case, make each other moan, as Paulina’s hand meets her mouth at her wife’s breast. Her finger traces slow, delicate spirals around a nipple as her lips mark the space in between her two mounds, relishing the sounds coming out of the blonde’s mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Her finger traces closer and closer to the stiff peak, but at the last moment, shifts downwards to palm the underside of her breast instead. With a small bite, Paulina moves her face away from her wife’s chest to meet her eyes once more, mischievous brown eyes against her wife’s unfocused ones, before looking back at her chest. There, underneath her palm, was a thin, pale line on her wife’s skin. Her other hand moves to mirror the left, finding an identical scar on the other side, too.</p><p> </p><p>“Dos kilos de silicona,” she says, mimicking her wife’s accent. This rewards her with a laugh, and then a moan, as she moves forward once more and uses her tongue to trace the scars one at a time. Distracted by the sound, along with the feel of her wife’s breast on her tongue, Paulina closes her eyes and lets herself get carried away — the urge to consume María José, to feast on her small sighs, tanned skin, and her breathless laughter takes over, and she is dragging her tongue up to finally take a nipple into her mouth and suck. She doesn’t know who enjoys the action more, and María José’s fingers thread through her hair, urging her on, their little game temporarily forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>Before long, Paulina feels the hand behind her head pull lightly, and she looks up to see her wife looking at her with an intensity that causes goosebumps down her arm. Gently, the blonde puts a hand on her shoulder to lay her back down onto their bed, before moving once again down her body. It takes a second for Paulina to remember what they had been doing, and by the time she does, her wife is kissing up her knee.</p><p> </p><p>The destination, Paulina knew, is the scar along the outside of her upper thigh — light enough that one wouldn’t notice it at first glance, but big enough that it made her a bit self-conscious about wearing short skirts even when she was young. It didn’t matter as much, of course, because her mother would have disapproved, and because she had always liked the way she looked in trousers anyway, but the thought is pushed out of her mind as a hand nudges her legs together and turns her lower body to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Biking accident,” her wife mutters. “You were around twelve or thirteen.” María José’s lips make their way up and up, finally landing on the gash that started mid-thigh and ended near the side of her ass. A hand moves the hem of her sleep shorts out of the way, and her wife begins pressing light kisses to trace the scar up and closer and closer to the source of all the heat Paulina is feeling in her body.</p><p> </p><p>She is dripping, quite literally, and she presses her legs a bit tighter together to relieve some of the surprising amount of pressure that has built up in the last couple of minutes. She hears a faint chuckle, but her wife continues on her path. María José is, after all, a perfectionist, and this applies to the precision with which she traces the scar and the steady rhythm she maintains along the way, which makes the brunette moan. Paulina’s hand finds its way to the back of her head, blonde hair spilling through her fingers. </p><p> </p><p>And when the task is complete, and they have finally exhausted all the scars on their bodies, María José moves to open Paulina’s knees, settling herself between them, hands landing on either side of her head, to kiss her on the mouth. The brunette loses herself in this kiss, moving her lips, tongue, and hips against her wife’s. She does not even notice when her pajamas come off — dimly, she wonders why she even bothers wearing them — but the feeling of her wife’s skin finally moving against her own makes her moan, and while Paulina faintly registers the music in the background, a woman singing <em> tú y yo, amarnos como nadie se amo</em>, the day’s tension and ensuing hysterics are all but forgotten.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The songs were a bit of a challenge to pick out because I'm not from Mexico or Latin America at all! But after an afternoon of research (if you would call listening to a few dozen songs and <em>feeling</em> things 'research'), I had chosen two! The first one that plays is Luis Miguel's Voy a Apagar La Luz. The last, as one might guess from the title, is Tú y Yo by Ana Gabriel. Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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